


An Unexpected Adventure: Of Wings and War

by awkward_rotter



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eventual Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hobbits, M/M, Magic, Smut, Thilbo, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-01 15:39:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2778548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkward_rotter/pseuds/awkward_rotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins was a normal Hobbit, until the day Gandalf came to his front door and he begins to learn things about himself and about a certain Oakenshield that would turn the version of the tale you know upside down and torn apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Gathering

Bilbo Baggins never believed himself to be anything but ordinary. He was a Baggins of Bag End, there was no reason for him to be different from any other respectable Hobbit in the Shire. He lived quietly in his Hobbit hole without any worry and living a normal life. That is, until he started getting the dreams. Bilbo would get into bed with a full belly and sleep comfortably until midnight when the pleasant dreams turned into nightmares. It was always of the same thing. The red dragon. The foul creatures smouldering golden eyes would burn into his very soul and a low guttural growl would cause fear to spiral within him. 

The Hobbit woke up drenched in sweat, his chest tightening with every breath he took. Blinking away the wetness of his eyes, Bilbo whimpered and brought his knees up to his chest, his quivering arms around them as he buried his face into his knees. There was no chance of going back to sleep after the nightmares. Every time he closed his eyes the eyes were there, so he had to spend the remainder of the night in his dimly lit room jumping at every sound. Loneliness slithered into the room, a stinging feeling at the pit of his stomach that made him long for company.

When the morning came so did the relief. The sun filtering through the windows chased away the darkness and lifted the weight off his chest; he could breathe. Bilbo cherished the sun as much as he could, leaving his hole at any chance he got if only to feel the wind on his skin and distract himself from the thought of the red dragon that visited his dreams. 

One morning, the young Hobbit was sitting in his front garden smoking his pipe with content, tapping his furry feet to a tune in his head with closed eyes and the wind rustling his golden brown locks. He wasn’t expecting anyone to stop and talk to him in his state of peace but alas, someone did. Bilbo felt a presence in front of him, that and the fact the sun stopped feeling so warm on his face, which caused a frown to grace his lips and he slowly opening his eyes. He found himself looking up at a tall man, taller than any Hobbit could ever be, wearing long, dark grey robes and a matching pointed hat. His face was lined with age but his eyes were young and bright with curiosity, although he seemed to be pursing his lips under that great silver beard.

“Um… Good Morning?” Bilbo said with a slight questioning tone.

“What do you mean?” The Old Man asked smoothly, “Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or that is it a good morning whether I want it or not, hm?” Bilbo stared up at the man with surprise and annoyance; too many questions for a morning, “Or perhaps you mean that you feel good on this particular morning, or that this is a morning to be good on?”

Bilbo didn’t quite know how to reply, “A-All of them at once… I suppose..” The Old Man hummed and a dark look dashed across his face, making Bilbo feel suddenly uncomfortable under his gaze.

“C-Can I help you?” Bilbo asked.

The Old Man hummed again, “That remains to be seen. I’m looking for someone to share in an adventure,” The dark look vanished from his features and instead an expectant, almost hopeful expression replaced it.

“An.. An adventure?” The young Hobbit had never heard of anything so absurd; an adventure? The old man had surely lost his mind, “Now I don’t imagine anyone West of Bree would have much interest in adventures.” The old mans eye brows rose, “Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things that make you late for dinner!” Bilbo stood up then, and shuffled towards his letterbox positioned outside the door of his Hobbit hole.

Bilbo noticed the man was still standing there, studying him, and said the first thing that came to his mind, “Good Morning!”

“To think I should have lived to be good morning-ed by Belladona Took’s son as if I were selling buttons at the door!”

“Beg your pardon?” Bilbo snapped irritably, a spurt of unrecognised confidence filling him.

“You’ve changed,” The man muttered, “And not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins.” The Hobbit gaped at him in silent shock.

“Do I know you?” He questioned.

“You know my name! Although it seems you don’t remember that I belong to it, I’m Gandalf! And Gandalf means… well, me.” Recognition flickered in Bilbo’s eyes.

“Not Gandalf the wondering wizard who made such excellent fireworks!” Bilbo grinned and Gandalf almost sighed, “Old Took used to have them on mid summers eve! No idea you were still in business.”

Gandalf frowned suddenly and looked at Bilbo heatedly, “And where else should I be?” Bilbo cleared his throat awkwardly, his confidence leaving him like water down a drain, “Well, I am pleased to find something you remember about me, even if it is only my fireworks… It is decided then. It will be very good for you, and most amusing for me. I shall inform the others!”

Bilbo blinked quickly, “What? No! No, wait…” He stumbled up the steps to his door, “We do not want any adventures here, thank you- Not today, so I suggest you try across the hill of over the water.” He hesitated heavily before adding a quick “Good Morning.” And turned towards the door.

“You’ve been having nightmares, haven’t you?” Gandalf’s voice was making it feel as if he wasn’t so much asking, but stating the obvious. Bilbo stopped dead and his eyes widened, “I see.” That was all he said on the matter and Bilbo scurried fearfully into his Hobbit hole, slamming the door shut behind him as his heart beat rapidly in his chest. How could Gandalf have known about the nightmares? A small scratching sound caught his attention and when he placed his hand on the door knob, he gasped in pain and shot back from the door. He gripped his hand against his chest, grimacing as he looked down at the sweltering red burn on his palm. 

“How…?” He backed away from the door slowly, heat building in his chest, then ran from it towards his room as fear swelled.

It was many hours later, when the sun was setting that he left his room. Bilbo found some bandages and wrapped them around his hand with quiet whimpers of pain. After his hand was bandaged, he wandered into the kitchen and began to make his supper. It was difficult with the pain from his hand, but the growling coming from his stomach was too loud to ignore. He was in and out of the pantry for a long while before he was satisfied with his food and set it down on the table with a smile. Of course, just as soon as he sat down with the salt shaker in his uninjured hand he had to be interrupted for the second time that day when a loud, firm knock came from the door.

He neared the door cautiously and gingerly touched the bronze doorknob to find it was no longer scorching but still intensely warm against his skin despite the cool air. He opened the door quickly to come face to face with a frightening dwarf whom looked down at the Hobbit with mild disdain.

“Dwalin.” The Dwarf bowed, his voice gruff, “At your service.” 

Bilbo made an unintelligible squeak before regaining himself, “And, uh, Bilbo Baggins.. At yours. Do we know each other?”

Dwalin glared at him as he strutted through the door, “No.” He growled and threw his cloak off, “Which way laddie? Where is it?”

“Where’s what?” 

Dwalin did not look impressed, “Supper! He said there’d be food!” He went into the kitchen and Bilbo watched in shock.

By the time Bilbo heard the next knock, he had relinquished his possession of his food for the stern Dwarf. He quickly rushed to open the door, the knob warm, and revealing yet another Dwarf. Fortunately, this one seemed nicer company with a warm smile and white hair and beard.

“Balin!” He chirped, bowing like Dwalin had previously done, “At your service!”

“Good evening.” Bilbo answered quietly, and Balin nodded.

“Yes, yes it is, although, I think it might rain later. Am I late?” Bilbo looked at him, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed.

“Late for what?” The Dwarf got distracted and the conversation ended there. 

As the night drew on, even more Dwarves knocked on his door. Fili, Kili, Oìn, Gloin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Ori, Nori and Nori as well as the old man himself, Gandalf, who Bilbo knew for certain was to blame for the overwhelming amount of Dwarves that were pillaging his pantry and having a joyous party in his small dining area, all huddled around his table and throwing food around. Bilbo was watching in both disgust and anger. He was just about to lose his temper completely after a small outburst towards Gandalf but the Dwarves (albeit not in a way that put Bilbo at ease) had cleaned up as much as they could of the mess they made. All merriment ended abruptly when two thuds broke through the laughter and singing.

“He’s here.” Gandalf muttered, before making his way towards the door and opening it. If Gandalf could feel the heat from the door knob he certainly showed no hint of doing so as he pulled open the door. 

“Gandalf,” The voice slipped through the air and Bilbo’s body tensed, “I thought you said this place would be easy to find, I lost my way twice.” Bilbo watched the Dwarf enter his house and the breath left his lungs. The Dwarf was handsome, with a certain regal posture and confidence that made Bilbo shrivel in his presence. His voice was deep and alluring as he spoke, “I would not have found it at all if not for that mark on the door.”

Bilbo washed the awe of the Dwarf away at the mention of a mark and walked over to the open door curiously, “Mark? There’s no mark on that door it was painted a… week ago….” His eyes found the glowing blue mark on the door and a wave of nausea swept over him. He could not find the strength to move, his vision blurred as a cold sensation shuddered through his bones. 

“Master Baggins?” Gandalf’s voice broke the reverie Bilbo had lost himself in just as the sound of the door shutting registered in his mind. A gasp of air filled his lungs and he looked around hastily to find all the Dwarves staring at him.

“Are you alright, Master Baggins?” Kili pondered and Bilbo nodded silently.

“I-I’m fine… I just… I’m fine.” He forced a smile, but it disappeared when Gandalf’s hand rested on his shoulder, squeezing slightly.

“I’m sure you are quite alright Bilbo Baggins,” Gandalf did not hide the distrust in his voice before continuing, “Now, let me introduce you to the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield.” Thorin looked sharply at the Hobbit and his eyes softened upon seeing him in the warm light of the Hobbit hole, but hardened again just as quickly.

“So, this is the Hobbit,” He stated, eyeing Bilbo as he stepped in front if him, “Tell me, have you done much fighting? Axe or sword?”

“I… Do have some skill in conkers. Although I fail to see… why that’s relevant.” He was once again reduced to a nervous wreck under the scrutinising, dark eyes of Thorin. Amusement lit them up.

“Thought as much,” He said and looked back at the Dwarves, “He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.” Laughter filled the hall and Bilbo tried not to let the comment hurt him too much. The Dwarves filed back to the table and Gandalf turned to Bilbo expectantly.

“Do you wish to tell me what happened?” The Wizard pushed, “You’re lucky they did not see your eyes turn black as they did, else they would have called it witchcraft.”

“M-My eyes?” Bilbo squeaked, “I-I… I just felt… sick, all of a sudden and cold, and I… I don’t know.” He didn’t know how to explain it to the wizard.

Gandalf frowned and glanced at the bandaged hand, “Perhaps we should talk about this later.” With that he went back to the table, leaving Bilbo to think on what had happened. When he started to pay full attention to the company of Dwarves, he realised he had no idea what they were talking about and suddenly felt very out of place, as if he didn’t belong in his own home.

“They say this quest is ours, and ours alone.” Thorin said and Bilbo bit his lip. Quest?

“You’re going on a quest?” His quiet voice was loud in the silence.

“Bilbo, my dear fellow!” Gandalf interrupted, “Let us have a little more light.” That distracted the Hobbit from asking any more questions. He gathered a lamp while Gandalf spoke and laid a map on the table, Bilbo sneakily looked down at the cursive letters on the parchment.

“The Lonely Mountain…” He murmured quietly to himself, but colour raised to his cheeks when Thorin looked up at him.

“Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain, as it was foretold.” Gloin began, “When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end.”

“Uh,” Bilbo stuttered, swallowing the lump in his throat, “What beast?”

“That would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible.” Bofur explained, “Chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire breather, teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks, extremely fond of precious metals…”

“Yes, I know what a dragon is,” Bilbo said, blood draining from his face as h wrung his wrists nervously, “Was.. Is, this dragon, Smaug, does he have dark red scales by any chance..?”

“Why yes,” Bofur replied, eyes narrowing, “You know of him?”

“No, not really… Just a guess.” Bilbo decided against telling them about the red dragon from his dreams. Thorin’s eyes lingered on him, even when Ori stood up and almost knocked the table over.

“I’m not afraid! I’m up for it! I’ll give him a taste of Dwarvish iron right up his jacksie!” The Dwarves agreed, but Thorin simply looked away from Bilbo coolly. The Hobbit couldn’t stop thinking about Smaug. Could he really be the dragon from his dreams?

“The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us.” Balin said loudly, “But we number just 13… and not 13 of the best, nor brightest.” This broke out a small argument and a burst of disapproval but it was Fili that broke it.

“We may be small in numbers, but we’re fighters, all of us, to the last Dwarf.” 

“And you forget we have a Wizard in our company,” Kili added enthusiastically and Bilbo marvelled at their passion, “Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time.” 

“Well, no, I-”

“How many then?” Oin asked, “How many dragons?” Gandalf took far too long to answer and Bilbo sighed in defeat as the Dwarves erupted in anger. Bilbo’s whole body went rigid as Thorin stood and shouted firmly in what he could only assume was Dwarvish. It sent shivers down his spine and made his heart race in his chest. 

“If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumours have begun to spread. The dragon, Smaug, has not been seen for 60 years. Eyes look East to the mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?” The Dwarves cheered and Bilbo watched Thorin admiringly, but cleared his throat and looked down at his feet when he caught Gandalf’s knowing smile.

“You forget that the Front Gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain.” Balin said dejectedly.

Gandalf drew his eyes away from Bilbo to look at Balin, “That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true.” He lifted a dark key from a pocket in his robes and lifted it into the light. Thorin stared at it with glimmering eyes.

“How came you by this?” He whispered.

“It was given to me by your father. By Thrain. For safekeeping. It is yours now.” Gandalf offered the key to Thorin, who took it softly as if he was afraid it would break.

“If there is a key…There must be a door.” Fili said and Bilbo pursed his lips. Gandalf poked the map with the end of his pipe.

“These runes speak of a hidden passage to the Lower Halls.”

“Another way in.” Kili grinned with joy.

“Well, if we can find it, but Dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies hidden in this map and I do not have the skill to find it.” He sighed, “But there are others in Middle-Earth who can. The task I have in mind with require a great deal of stealth and no small amount of courage.” He looked at Bilbo, “But if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done.”

“That’s why we need a burglar.” Ori said.

“And a good one too.” Bilbo added obliviously, “An expert, I’d imagine.”

“And are you?”

Bilbo blinked, trying to ignore Thorin’s eyes burning into him, “Am I what?”

“He said he’s an expert!” 

“Me? No. I am not a burglar! I’ve never stolen a thing in my life!” He exclaimed in defence, the whole situation becoming far too uncomfortable for his liking.

“I’m afraid I have to agree with Mr Baggins,” Balin said, “He is hardly burgular material.” 

“Aye, the wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves.” Dwalin grunted. Bilbo felt like head-butting the wall when the Dwarves began to argue again. Bilbo suddenly felt a surge of nausea again.

“Enough.” Gandalf rose from his seat, the walls creaking as shadows filled the room, “If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burgular, then a Burglar then a Burglar he is.” Bilbo felt his legs weakening and his head growing light. He leaned forward and caught himself by grabbing the back of Thorin’s chair, closing his eyes and breathed softly out of his mouth.

“Hobbit’s are remarkably light on their feet, in fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of Dwarf, the scent of a Hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage.”

“Master Baggins,” Ori spoke up quietly, “Are you ill?” All eyes turned to the ashen faced Hobbit. He brought his hand to his face and held it to his eyes, a dull pain throbbing in his skull.

“Bilbo, sit here,” Gandalf rose from his seat and forced Bilbo into it. Once the weight was off his legs, Bilbo felt the exhaustion fully hit him.

“How long have you been like this Bilbo?” Gandalf continued and Bilbo shook his head.

“It’s only just… just come on now.” He admitted quietly and Gandalf grumbled to himself.

“He is too ill to travel Gandalf.” Thorin stated coldly, “We cannot take with us a person who will slow us down.”

Gandalf shook his head, “It was my magic, I am sure of it. Hobbit’s are not accustomed too it, it was a natural reaction I assure you. He will be well enough by the morrow. You asked for a 14th member and here am offering you one, who has more potential than any of you realise.” Sitting upright, Bilbo ignored the pain in his head and watched Thorin’s expression as he gave in to Gandalf's persuasion.

“Very well,” Thorin sighed, “Gove him the contract.”

Balin stood and offered Bilbo a piece of parchment, “It’s just the usual, summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth…” Silently, Bilbo took the parchment and pulled himself to his feet, wandering out into the hall stiffly as he opened the parchment and read out the writing under his breath. Bilbo didn’t stay conscious long enough to read further than incineration. 

Thorin watched as they dragged the Hobbit into the living room and sighed. The Hobbit was a curious creature indeed. Not that he would live to see the adventure through. He couldn’t deny the small flicker of sadness the thought gave him, but he ignored it and paid heed only to the disdain of having the minute creature slow them down. When Bilbo woke up, Gandalf had made him a cup of tea and sat him down in the armchair in front of the fire.

“I’ll be alright,” He said, “Let me sit quietly for a moment.”

“Bilbo, I think you know that sitting quietly will not help.” Gandalf said sternly.

“Help what? I just fainted. I’ll be fine.”

Gandalf regarded him, “How did you burn your hand, Bilbo?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you…” Bilbo answered, looking down at his cup of tea.

“Try me.” Gandalf countered quickly and Bilbo sighed heavily.

“This morning, when I went back inside and you presumably left the mark on that door, I touched the door knob and it burnt my hand.” He explained, feeling rather silly. Gandalf hummed.

“Strange. My magic seems to have a bad effect on you my dear Bilbo.” He pursed his lips, “Although I have no idea why.”

‘Can I… Can I tell you something?” Bilbo pondered softly and Gandalf nodded, “I’ve been having these… dreams, lately. More like nightmares to be honest but, they’re always of the same thing. A dragon. A red dragon with golden eyes,” Bilbo paused and licked his lips, “He’s only ever said one thing to me, he says, ‘I can smell it in you’ and then I wake up.”

“And you think it may be Smaug, hm?” Gandalf inquired. Bilbo shrugged and place the mug down on a book on the arm of the chair.

“I just think… It’s unusual. Every night it’s the same thing and then this happens. It could mean nothing. Just a silly dream.”

“I think this gives you all the more reason to come with us, Bilbo. What if it isn’t just a dream? The Elves have knowledge far beyond mine. We can find them.”

“No, it’s just a dream. Besides, I’m a Baggins of Bag End. I don’t go on adventures. I’d much rather read about them.”

“Well, when you come back you’ll have a story to tell and a book to write of your own. Much more exciting.”

“Can you promise that I will come back?” Bilbo asked softly.

“No.” Gandalf replied honestly, “And if you do, you will not be the same.”

“That’s what I thought.” Bilbo whispered hoarsely before standing up, “I can’t sign this. You’ve got the wrong Hobbit.” Gandalf watched Bilbo leave without any attempt to stop him. The Hobbit would come around on his own.

Bilbo walked out into the hall and his eyes caught Thorin’s immediately. He was standing in one of the doorways, his back against the wall and a mug of ale in his hand as he stared at the Hobbit. Gulping, Bilbo found it hard to tear his eyes away from the handsome Dwarf but eventually he found strength enough to do so. In one of the bedrooms, Bilbo lay still in his bed. He could hear Thorin’s voice as he sang of the Misty Mountains and despite the dread of the nightmare looming over him, Bilbo was guided into a calm sleep by the singing. He wished he’d stayed awake long enough to hear it all; Thorin’s voice was strong and brave and even after seeing the undeniable disdain the Dwarf had for Bilbo, the Hobbit still admired him.

That night, at midnight, the nightmare came again, but it changed. It changed and it shook him to the core.


	2. Soft Spot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some hints to Thilbo in this chapter and to the future plot I have in my head for Bilbo! Also, I know its boring and slow but I hope it will speed up soonish.

When Bilbo opening his eyes he knew instantly that something wasn’t right. His bed was no longer fluffy and soft beneath him, for he was laying on a vast mountain of gold coins and other valuable objects that shimmered hazily in the dim light. Sitting up, the Hobbit looked around the vast hall and stared in awe at the tall ceiling carved from stone and the various magnificent staircases and pillars around him. His awe was broken by a familiar growl. A cold shudder caught him and he stiffened, his heels digging into the mound. The growl continued, a cloud of red smoke seeped through the coins and gems before collecting in the air.

“A Hobbit…” The voice drawled, a dull flash of gold appeared like lightening in the slowly swirling cloud, but it disappeared, “No, there’s not much of that in you…”

“Leave me be!” Bilbo shouted after he found his voice. The cloud of red flashed gold again as a vicious laugh filled the air.

“There is a fire in your Belly…” The voice cooed, “It burns in you, I can smell it…”

“I SAID LEAVE ME BE!” Bilbo bellowed, his small voice becoming strong as a pulse through the air from his quivering body pushed into the storm of red smoke, causing it to dissipate into thin air as if it had never been there to begin with. 

After a few tense moments of pure silence, the voice was behind him, whispering in his ear, “Such a fire. You’ll see.”  


Bilbo gasped in shock as tendrils of solid black limbs resembling roots shot up from the ground, the gems and gold falling away. Bilbo had barely enough time to blink before the limbs wrapped themselves around his own and around his waist, pulling his to the floor. He struggled wildly, too scared to scream as their grips tightened around his flesh and burning it. Slowly, the air became full of the red mist; he was inhaling it and he coughed and spluttered furiously when his lungs filled with heat and his nose burnt. 

“Fire, Fjaðrhamr, fire…”

Bilbo woke up in the middle of the night back in his bed where he fell asleep hours prior. He sat bolt upright and clamped his hand over his mouth quickly as the start of a sob slipped past his lips. His body was shaking horribly, his shirt and hair stuck to his skin with a thick layer of sweat as he breathes shortly. The nightmare had been the most painful and frightening yet. If not for the fact he had both hands over his mouth he would have been sobbing like a child. Straightening himself, Bilbo swung his legs over the side of the bed and relished the feeling of the cold floorboards against his feet. The silence was deafening. Deciding that sleeping was not going to happen now, the Hobbit stood up and left his room with his hands feeling the walls gingerly in case his numb legs lost strength.

He found the living room easily, entering the room and realising that it was much colder in here for the fireplace had lost its flames. Kneeling, Bilbo lit it again with stiff, fumbling fingers. He fell onto the armchair and curled himself up, his knees to his chest and his shoulder pressed against the fabric of the chair firmly. He sat like that for hours, staring into the fires stoically, trying to make sense of the dream. Fire in his belly? A riddle maybe? No, perhaps not. And what was that name the voice had called him? Fjaðrhamr? Bilbo sighed in frustration.

“Master Baggins?” Bilbo’s eyes drifted away from the fire to take in the shadowed figure of Thorin Oakenshield standing just in reach of the fires light. The Hobbit’s eyes widened and a breath of air left his lungs in shock. The Dwarf’s face glowed, his hair dark and his tired eyes glimmering as they gazed down at the Hobbit. Bilbo could not deny that the Dwarf was incredibly handsome.

“I… What are you doing awake?” Bilbo muttered lowly. The Dwarf’s brow raised as he took in Bilbo’s dishevelled, sweaty appearance.

“I could say the same for you,” Thorin replied, “You look too tired to be awake.”

Bilbo bristled and looked away, “I can’t sleep.”

Thorin regarded the Hobbit silently. The creature before him was clearly not suited to any form of battle, and Thorin didn’t want a person that could barely hold a butter knife in defence to be joining such an important and dangerous quest… But there was something that Thorin couldn’t put his finger on. It was something invisible, a sensation, a feeling radiating from the Hobbit. A warmth and fire that gripped Thorin every time he looked at Bilbo.

“Bad dream?” He questioned finally and Bilbo sighed.

“It’s nothing important, just a dream.” 

Thorin crossed his arms over his chest, “Well, Master Baggins if you are no longer in any immediate distress I will take my leave.”

“Ah… Of course. I’ve kept you awake.” Bilbo said softly, forcing a small smile. Thorin turned to leave but Bilbo’s voice called him back.

“Do… Do you know what fjaðrhamr means?” He asked uncertainly. The Dwarf’s eyes widened a fraction before narrowing.

“Where have you heard such a language?” Thorin’s voice was almost a growl, disdain growing in it. Bilbo shrank back.

“I-I heard it in my dream…” The Hobbit squeaked. The Dwarf glowered at him with distrust.

“The Dragon’s Speech? In a dream?” Thorin stomped closer, a primal glint in his darkened eyes, “What was your dream about, Hobbit?”

“It’s… I was in a big hall filled with treasure and… and there was this red smoke… A voice started talking and it called me fjaðrhamr and said I had fire in me… then these, these black things held me down and… I woke up.” Bilbo’s voice grew quiet and shook with every word as he recalled the dream. Thorin scowled and stormed out, his voice carried through Bag End like a bugle.

~Later~

“Thorin, what is so important for you to wake the whole company for?” Gandalf inquired, looking just as irked as he sounded as the Dwarves crowded into the living room.

“Your Hobbit had a dream.” Thorin stated, “I think you would benefit from hearing it.”

And so Bilbo went about reciting his dream under the watchful eyes of the Dwarves, who he tried to avoid looking at as his cheeks flared pink. Gandalf pursed his lips as the story continued, glancing at the Dwarf Prince but he was watching Bilbo too avidly to notice the Wizard’s look. When Bilbo had finished, he was breathless and the silence was almost worrying.

“My dear Bilbo,” Gandalf said eventually, “Fjaðrhamr means ‘Feather-Coated’ or ‘Feather Covered’ but the reason why this… voice, has associated it with you is unknown to me.”

“Who do you suppose the voice belongs to?” Bofur chirped curiously.

“I think you all know who.” Gandalf answered, “Bilbo almost described perfectly the Treasure Keep within Erebor where the dragon sleeps. A red mist. Smaug’s scaled have an uncanny resemblance.”

“It was just a dream!” Bilbo exclaimed quickly, “It means nothing!”

“Bilbo, you have more sense in you than that.” Gandalf chastised swiftly, “Sometimes a dream can mean a lot more than words on paper.”

“What do you suppose it means then?” Thorin’s question earned him a disbelieving look from the Hobbit sitting in the chair, but he tried to ignore it. 

“It means that the Hobbit will be in danger if he stays here if this is what I fear it is. Much more danger than if he joins the company.” Gandalf said. Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no way this was happening to him.

“Then he is to come with us?” Balin spoke and Gandalf nodded.

“Whether he likes it or not, yes he will be coming with us.”

“Wait a minute, I don’t get a say in this?” Bilbo got to his feet and placed his hands on his hips in annoyance, “What is happening to me!?”

Gandalf grumbled, “I fear something foul has made a connection with you. We need to have someone experienced in this take a look at you and I know just the person.”

“What if I don’t want to leave?” Thorin’s original indifference towards the small, curly haired creature was ebbing as he watched him plant his furry feet. Thorin glanced at Gandalf and almost smirked at the disgruntled expression lining the wizards aging face. 

“Then I will drag you by your ears, Bilbo Baggins!” Gandalf retorted hotly and Bilbo blushed furiously, “We will leave at first light.”

~~~~~~The Next Day~~~~~~

The Company had left Bag End by the time the sun was high. The ponies were all tacked up, with packs tied to the saddles and Bilbo had been given a sweet mare named Myrtle to ride. Despite the mare’s gentle nature he was quite ashamed to admit that he had not ridden many ponies in his time and nerves rattled him. Eventually, Thorin had to forcefully throw him onto the chestnut pony, much to the Hobbit’s embarrassment but Thorin seemed to enjoy the fresh blush in his cheeks. They had been riding for what seemed like an age through the woods when Bilbo felt it. A pain in his back, a great ache in his shoulder blades that made him double over in the saddle and grimace. 

“Bilbo?” The Hobbit looked to the side to see none other than Kìli riding beside him. 

“Yes?” Bilbo straightened his back and Kìli frowned.

“You looked like you were in pain. Are you okay?” Kìli’s concern somewhat flattered Bilbo.

“I’m fine… Just a bit of back ache is all.” His reassurance seemed to satisfy the young Dwarf, who smiled cheekily and trotted back to his brother.

Gandalf was the only other person to fall back to ride beside Bilbo. The Hobbit was grateful for company despite the annoyance he still held for the wizard after being forced out of his home. For a while Gandalf said nothing, just hummed to himself, but soon he sparked a conversation.

“How are you feeling?” 

Bilbo looked at him warily, “I’m fine. Tired, but fine.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Gandalf commented airily, “But I won’t dig into it.”

Bilbo’s eyes looked at Gandalf in slight irritation, his brow furrowed and his lips parted as he tried to find the words to say. Seconds passed and any attempts to answer were ruined. They rode across grass plains, down winding paths and through dark woods before the sun began to set. They found a suitable place for camp against a small cliff face, tying the ponies up and setting up a fire. Bombur was more than happy to cook up a warm broth for everyone, although offered a little more for Bilbo who seemed the weariest. Kìli was not the only one to notice the Hobbits obvious pain, so they were careful with him. Eventually darkness fell over the land and most of the Dwarves had fallen asleep.

Bilbo had indeed tried to sleep, but the incessant snoring and the nagging feeling of the awaiting nightmare in the back of his head kept his eyes alert. Feeling around in his pocket he smoothed his fingers around an apple, keeping hold of it as he rose from his bedroll and tiptoed towards the ponies. Had Thorin not been paying attention to the Hobbit in the first place, he wouldn’t have noticed the movement. A smile tugged at the Dwarf’s lips. Perhaps the wizard was right, Bilbo moved silently when he wanted too. The smile turned into a warmer one when he realised the Hobbit was simply trying to give that chestnut mare an apple. A loud screech echoed through the air and it wiped the smile clean off Thorins face. Bilbo visibly tensed and twisted around to look straight at the Oakenshield in a mixture of mild shock and fear.

“What was that?!” He whispered sharply, walking carefully back towards the fire.

“Orcs.” Kìli murmured, another screech joining his statement.

“O-Orcs?” Bilbo stuttered, and Thorin sat up restlessly.

“Throat cutters.” Fìli added nonchalantly, “There’ll be loads of them out there. The lands are crawling with them.”

“They attack in the small hours when everyone is asleep,” Kìli explained, a small hint of amusement in his youthful eyes, “All quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood.”

Bilbo looked away from the pair and looked out onto the woodland worriedly, his hands clenched anxiously by his sides. Thorin’s brewing anger exploded at the subtle chuckles and giggles exhibited by his relatives.

“You think this is funny?” He spat, “You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?” Bilbo watched Thorin with wide eyes as the Dwarf walked passed him.

“We… We didn’t mean anything by it.” Kìli muttered apologetically.

 

“No you didn’t.” Thorin growled lowly. Bilbo’s eyes followed him as he stalked over to the ponies, “You know nothing of the world.”

“Don’t mind him laddie.” Balin’s fatherly voice drew Bilbo’s eyes away from the dark Prince and he sat by the fire, “Thorin has more cause than most to hate Orc’s. After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria... but our enemy had got there first. Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs, led by the most vile of all their race, Azog the Defiler. The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin.” Bilbo glanced at Thorin, frowning when he could not see the prince’s face, and Balin continued, “He began by beheading the King. Thrain, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing, taken prisoner or killed; we did not know. We were leaderless, defeat and death were upon us. That is when I saw him; the young dwarf prince facing down the Pale Orc. He stood alone against this terrible foe, his armour rent, wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield... Azog the Defiler learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Our forces rallied and drove the Orcs back; our enemy had been defeated... but there was no feast or songs that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived and I thought to myself then 'There is one I could follow. There is one I could call King'.” 

Bilbo simply sat in silence for a moment, taking in the story slowly. Thorin had been through so much and yet he was not broken. A new respect and admiration for the Dwarf found its way into Bilbo’s heart and he found that he could not tear his eyes away from him as Thorin turned to face them with fresh eyes wet with memories. 

“And the Pale Orc…” Bilbo began softly, “What happened to him?”

“He slunk back to the hole whence he came,” Thorin answered hoarsely, hostility in every syllable, “That filth died of his wounds long ago.”

Bilbo watched him and Thorin laid down onto the rock, eyes glaring at Bilbo although the Hobbit did not think he was to blame for such anger. Merely memories that had been brought back. Bilbo chose to stay awake for the night. The itching feeling that the nightmare was not going to relent was too much to ignore. He sat awake, listening to the soft breathing (and the snoring) but most of all watched Thorins chest moving as he slept until the morning came. 

“How long have you been awake?” Bofur asked as they ate breakfast and the Hobbit lied smoothly.

“Not long. Just before you did.” 

Thorin shook his head as he packed away his things; the Hobbit was a good liar, but Thorin had known that Bilbo had not slept a wink. He ordered the company to hurry up and within an hour they were mounting their ponies and were riding again once more. Had it not been for the cold downpour of rain at mid day, Bilbo would have surely fallen asleep on the back of poor Myrtle. The rain seeped through his clothes and to his skin within moments and he realised that the Dwarves were better dressed for the rain and were not quite as cold as he was. He sat there, shivering and quaking with his soaking wet curls flattened over his face. He almost jumped out of his own skin when something heavy was placed over him.

“You’re cold.” Thorin stated emotionlessly. Bilbo blinked in confusion. Over his drenched clothes was now one of Thorin’s thick furs, shielding him from the rain and offering some warmth. A blush yet again found his cheeks and he thanked the Prince quietly.

“Hm.” Was the dwarf’s only reply before he made his way back up to the front of the ride.

“I see Thorin has a soft spot for you.” Bilbo squeaked and looked at Bofur.

“I-I, uh, what?” Bilbo spluttered, his teeth chattering.

“Oh, nothing. Just that Thorin has a small soft spot for our burglar.” Bofur grinned cheekily at the Hobbit, who gaped at him.

“H-He just gave me something to keep me dry…” Bilbo reasoned and Bofur chuckled, wiping the rain from his face.

“No, he gave you what was keeping him dry. That was his only fur!”

Bilbo realised then that this was true. The Dwarf Prince of Erebor had given Bilbo Baggins, the Hobbit from the Shire, his only furs and was now facing the brunt of the rain for the sake of Bilbo’s comfort.

Maybe he did have a soft spot for him after all…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you are aware 'Fjaðrhamr' is Nordic! I just thought dragons needed a language like they do in Skyrim and used Nordic, correct me if the meaning of the word it wrong!


	3. Above a Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to do some fanart for this fic but failed since my drawing skills aren't doing any justice. This chapter is very rushed, and I had a bit of writers block so it's not very long... But alas, I did change stuff up so its not exactly what happened in the book or the movie. Also some interaction between Bombur, Bofur and Bilbo!

Eventually, the rain slowed and died out, offering the company some relief. By the time they found a suitable place to rest they had for the most part dried off. They dismounted the ponies quickly, their legs aching from long hours of riding and a few hollered dramatically to feel the earth under their feet. They'd stopped where an old house stood by the trees, but something about it made Bilbo's skin crawl as he drew the furs tighter over him. The house was half destroyed, the wood black and gaping holes in the decrepit ceiling. The burnt wooden, skeletal structure kept it up but it still stood bent and crooked. Thorin ordered Kìli and Fìli to look after the horses, but Bilbo's hands kept hold of Myrtles rope tightly, his hands stroking the white strip down her nose fondly as some of the Dwarves removed the sacks from her back.

"A farmer and his family used to live here..." Gandalf thought to himself, studying the place sternly, "I think it would be wiser to move on," Thorin walked towards the wizard, "We could make for the Hidden Valley."

"I have told you already," Thorin grunted darkly, Bilbo watched carefully from afar, "I will not go near that place."

"Why not? The Elves could help us." Bilbo tried hard not to let the thought of Elves excite him, but the Took blood in his veins pumped faster nonetheless, but Gandalf continued, "We could get food, rest, advice..."

"I do not need their advice."

"We have a map that we cannot read, Lord Elrond could help us." Gandalf's brow rose expectantly, as if he was daring the Dwarf to argue.

"Help?" Thorin breathed, "Dragon attacks Erebor: what help came from the Elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls... The Elves looked on and did nothing." The bite in the Dwarfs voice was cold and harsh. Bilbo allowed Kìli to take Myrtle before cautiously making his way over to where the arguing forces stood.

"And you ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather." Thorin spat, lips curling in disgust, "Who betrayed my father."

"You are neither of them." Gandalf replied earnestly, "I did not give you that map and key for you to hold onto the past."

"I did not know that they were yours to keep." The Prince snapped angrily. Within moments the Gandalf turned on his heel and stormed away from the company, brushing past the Hobbit grumbling under his breath.

"G-Gandalf?" Bilbo called weakly, "Where are you going?"

"To seek the company of the only one around here who's got any sense!" Was Gandalf's hasty answer. 

"And who's that?" Bilbo shouted to the wizards retreating back.

"Myself, Master Baggins!" 

Bilbo watched the wizard, biting his lip anxiously. He turned his head to look at Thorin, who had his dark eyes trained on the bright eyed Hobbit. Bilbo swallowed the lump in his throat before peeling the fur coat away from himself, clutching it in front of him nervously. He offered the Prince a small smile before holding the coat out.

"Here's your, um, coat back..." He stuttered quietly and Thorin wordlessly reached for it, their fingers brushing against each other softly.

"Thank you, for l-letting me borrow it," Bilbo began again, quickly holding his hands behind his back when his ears turned pink, "You must have been cold."

"I couldn't have our only Burglar getting ill a few days into the journey." Thorin explained with little emotion.

"Right, well, of course, I just wanted you to... Nevermind." Bilbo tripped over his own words like the Gaffer tripped down the streets after a night at the Green Dragon, which you can imagine was not a very attractive sight for either of the Hobbit's, although Thorin's face lit up with a ghost of a smile.

"No need for thanks," Thorin added, turning to the Dwarves and changed the conversation swiftly, "Bombur, get the fire going. We're hungry."

"I'll help." Bofur chirped quickly and Bombur offered the Dwarf a thankful smile. 

Bombur searched around in the packs for the pots and bowls while Bofur gathered the sticks and foliage for the fire, leaving Bilbo to himself. When it was finally lit, Bilbo sat down close to the flames with his knees pulled up to his chest. He watched Bombur's hands curiously as the Dwarf stirred the big pot over the fire and began to peel a potato. As he cooked he smiled contently and Bilbo couldn't help but smile as well.

"What are you cooking?" Bilbo asked, "If you don't mind me asking."

Bombur's small eyes lit up in surprise, "Beef stew!" He replied joyously, "With potatoes, carrots, and of course the beef..." He trailed off, cutting up the peeled potato before throwing it into the pot.

"It smells delicious," The Hobbit commented as the scent reached his cold nose.

"Aye, it's the best I can do with what little we have." Bombur's face grew sad, "If I had the great kitchens and pantries of Erebor I could cook up a feast to remember."

"One day, I hope you will have that again." The Dwarf regarded the Hobbit with a soft expression.

"Me too, Master Baggins, me too."

"Call me Bilbo."

Bofur interrupted the conversation with a groan as a loud rumble echoed from his stomach, fixing Bombur with a look of mock desperation as he slumped down next to Bilbo heavily. Bombur rolled his eyes.

"Yes it will be ready in a moment, Bofur, be patient."

After fifteen minutes of Bofur's moaning and pestering, the stew was finally complete and Bilbo's mouth was already watering just smelling it and he couldn't hide the low groan from his stomach as Bombur started to pour the stew into wooden bowls. The Dwarf offered Bilbo a bowl, the Hobbit taking it graciously. The Dwarf beside him greedily took a bowl with a toothy grin and Bilbo looked at him as he sipped slowly at the hot liquid. Grimacing, Bilbo couldn't warn Bofur fast enough. Bofur gulped down a mouthful of the stew and yelped loudly.

"Ah!" He spluttered, "Hot!"

Bombur laughed raucously, "It was your own fault my friend!" Even Bilbo was biting back a giggle.

"Eh?" Bofur looked down at Bilbo, "And what are you laughing at?"

"Oh, nothing." Bilbo answered smoothly, sipping at his stew. Bofur lowered the bowl to his lap.

"I'll have you know, Master Baggins, I am a very respectable Dw- AH!" Bofur suddenly jumped up, a wet stain on his trousers from where the boiling stew had spilt out of the bowl. Now Bilbo couldn't stop himself from laughing with the rest of the Company when Bofur started to do what resembled a jig shouting 'HOT!' repeatedly.

"Bofur!" The deep voice broke through the laughing and everyone was silent, all eyes turned towards the tall Dwarf Prince standing just out of the reach of the fire, "I do not want to draw any unwanted attention."

"Of course, Thorin, my apologies..." Bofur sat down, ignoring the burning against his leg and picking up his bowl once more, winking at Bilbo as he did so.

Thorin retreated from the group and Bombur spoke up, "Bilbo, would you mind taking these to the boys?" Bilbo glanced at the two bowls in the Dwarfs hands and begrudgingly took them.

The Hobbit walked down to where the ponies were being kept through trees and the dried leafs on the floor crunched loudly under his feet, but the two Dwarves didn't so much as glance at him as they stood before the ponies with their backs facing him.

"What's the matter?" Bilbo asked carefully.

"We're supposed to be looking after the ponies..." Kìli began.

"Only we've encountered a, uh, slight problem." Fìli sighed and Bilbo looked between them both, then at the ponies.

"We had sixteen." Kìli continued, shoulders dropping a little.

"Now there's fourteen."

Bilbo counted each pony quickly and found they were right. Two ponies were missing. The Dwarf siblings started to walk and Bilbo followed them, the bowls in his hands almost forgotten under the circumstances at hand. The Hobbit was relieved to see Myrtle still grazing happily and his nerves calmed, albeit only a little.

"Daisy and Bungo are missing." Kìli said and Bilbo nodded weakly.

"Well that's not good," He stopped dead and paled. A tree had been uprooted and was laying on its side, "And that is not good at all, shouldn't we tell Thorin?" 

"Ah!" Fìli exclaimed briskly. "I mean, no, let's not worry him. As our official burglar we thought you might want to look into it."

"Right," Bilbo cleared his throat, his voice suddenly failing him, "Well, uh, obviously something big uprooted these trees," He ignored the look the brothers shared and continued, "It's something very big and... possibly quite dangerous." 

"Hey!" Fìli elbowed the Hobbit and nodded towards the trees, "There's a light..." 

He gestured silently for them to follow, the three of them kneeling behind an oak log. Through the trees Bilbo could indeed see a flickering golden light casting shadows and illuminating the trees around it. Bilbo set the bowls down and grimaced at the sound of grunting and throaty laughing in the distance. His nose twitched as he sniffed a little, looking at Fìli in confusion.

"What are they?"

"Trolls." Kìli murmured in disgust. Bilbo's stomach dropped and twisted at the thought. 

Despite the Hobbit's protests, the two Dwarves jumped over the log and Bilbo unwittingly left the bowls behind as he followed them. However, he had to turn back quickly to grab them as the thought of leaving food behind made his stomach churn even worse. They ran through the bushes and Bilbo more than once lost sight of the brothers and was more than relieved when they stopped. A shrill neigh and ground shaking footsteps caught his attention and he jumped out of view of the humongous Troll stalked past with two frantic ponies under its arms.

"He's got Myrtle and Minty!" Bilbo squeaked, watching as his favourite pony was dragged away towards the light, "They're going to eat them! We have to do something." 

Both Dwarves eyes widened, "Yes! You should! Mountain trolls are slow and stupid and you're so small, they'll never see you."

"Me? No! No, no, no, I-" 

"It's perfectly safe. We'll be behind you." Kìli took the bowls from Bilbo's grip and the Hobbit was ushered out into the open by Fìli.

"If you run into trouble, hoot twice like a barn owl and once like a brown owl."

"Twice like a- barn- no, brown owl, once like a... a..."

Bilbo's poor head was beginning to ache with the ordeal and he looked back to the Dwarves, only to find they'd disappeared. Typical, Bilbo thought bitterly, leave the Hobbit to do it all! It was only the gruff voices that broke through his angry thinking and snapped his attention back to the trolls about to eat his pony.

"Mutton yesterday, mutton today, and blimey, if it don't look like mutton again tomorrow..." One of the Troll's said as Bilbo began tiptoeing closer to their camp.

"Quit your griping." The second Troll's voice was deeper, but no less disgusting to hear, "These ain't sheep. These is fresh nags." Their grasp of grammar was not so surprising.

"Ugh, I don't like horse. Never have. Not enough fat on 'em." The third voice was high pitched and it grated on Bilbo's ears to the point where it made him shudder. The Troll dropped Myrtle and Minty into what looked like a make shift pen with Bungo and Daisy.

Bilbo failed to pay much attention to the conversation after that, he ran to tale cover behind a tree near where one of the foul creatures was sitting. When they began to fight, Bilbo ran again towards the pen, the ponies whinnying softly as he skidded to a halt by them. The gate was tied shut by thick rope, the Hobbit's small hands were unable to loosen it even a little and he sighed in defeat. He looked about for help, trying his best to ignore the stinging pain in his back. The damned pain had been there all day, not budging a bit and if anything it had only gotten worse, the sharpness seeping into his spine and spreading across his shoulder blades.

A silver glint caught his eye and Bilbo had an idea. He slowly slipped over to the silver blade tied to the Trolls belt. Tugging at it gently, the blade refused to come loose. He pulled at it harder, but a sudden, loud yelp escaped him as the muscles in his back erupted with a burning pain at the strenuous act. He stumbled away from the Troll, nearly falling on his backside but kept himself upright despite the burning. The blood drained from him as the Troll was startled by the yelp and stood up. Oh no, was Bilbo's only thought as the Trolls turned to look at him.

"What the- What are you?" The deep voiced, fatter troll asked, raising a knife. Bilbo made an unintelligible sound before scurrying between the trolls legs and attempting to run, but stumbled, falling to the ground and grimaced through the pain in his back. 

"Oh no you don't!" The Troll exclaimed, all three turning again, scowling.

"I-I'm a burglar- I mean a Hobbit!" Bilbo answered, picking himself up again.

"A burglar Hobbit?!" The childlike Troll questioned loudly.

"Oi!" The fat troll interrupted, "Can we cook him?"

"We can try!"

Bilbo yelped in fear this time and made to run into the trees but a big iron spoon knocked him back as the third Troll appeared. The third one was shorter than the others, but had a white scar down his left eye, which was cloudy and pink.

"He wouldn't make more than a mouthful." It said, "Not when he's skinned and boned."

"Perhaps there's more burglar Hobbits around here." Another argued, knife shoved close to Bilbo's face, "Might be enough for a pie!"

Three hands swooped down to grab the Hobbit and Bilbo avoided them swiftly, but shrieked when the fat Troll caught him by the legs and lifted him clean off the ground over the pot. The knife returned, Bilbo's eyes focused fearfully on it as it hovered dangerously close to his stomach.

"Are there any more of you little fellows hiding where you shouldn't?"

"No!"

"He's lying!" 

Bilbo almost threw up when he realised the childlike one was eyeing him up close, one of his pupils drifting upwards and his breath hitting Bilbo full in the face, much to his disdain. The Troll suddenly screamed, a sound that made Bilbo's ears ring it was that high, and a familiar voice made the Hobbit almost laugh with relief.

"Drop him!" Kìli yelled with a dark smile.

"You what?" The Troll holding Bilbo's legs growled.

"I said, DROP HIM!" Kìli yelled fiercely and Bilbo almost missed the smirk forming on the Troll's face.

"Fine." The Troll snarled and everything blurred, for the Troll had thrown the Hobbit carelessly and his back hit a tree with a sickening crack and a flash of pain blinded him as he fell to the ground with a thud. He closed his eyes tight shut, tears building as he tried to stand up. Agony tore through his muscles and it made a cry of pain slip past his lips.

"Bilbo!" Kìli shouted worriedly but he was drowned out by war cries as the rest of the Company charged through the bushes and began to batter the Trolls with sword and hammer. 

Barely able to breathe, Bilbo hauled his body towards the shelter of a boulder, gasping for breath. He watched the fighting quietly. Until a Troll caught sight of him. He whimpered in pain as it roughly grabbed him and held him up. As soon as the Dwarves saw they stopped.

"Lay down your arms!" The Troll ordered, "Or I'll crush every bone in his body." The hand around his torso tightened and Bilbo cried out, his face contorting in pain as his tender bones ached under the pressure. He looked at Thorin pleadingly, a small flicker of emotion in the Princes eyes as he studied the Hobbit's face. With a defeated scowl, Thorin laid down his sword. The other Dwarves complied in anger.

"Good." The Troll grinned and looked at the others, "Get the sacks, we're tying them up." He lifted Bilbo to his face, "You're going in a cage, your friends get to see you suffer."

Bilbo was thrown into a small cage, the black metal bent out of shape and rusted. The Hobbit shrank back into the corner as the door was shut and he fearfully looked on as the Dwarves were put into sacks and thrown into a pile, the Trolls not phased by the grotesque insults the Company were throwing at them.

"Get the Burglar Hobbit on the fire, it won't take long for 'im to cook." 

The cage lifted and Bilbo quickly tucked his feet in, resting them on the bars as the cage swung and bile rose in his throat. He quickly figured out that they intended on tying the cage to the spit above the fire and he clamped his hand over his mouth in fear of vomiting. The heat from the fire was smothering and it filled his lungs with every breath he took but he did not make a sound. 

"Let him go!" Kìli hollered furiously.

"Stay calm Bilbo, we'll get you out!" Bombur promised. Bilbo knew with a heavy heart that they had no way of helping him other than pointless pleading but he nodded none the less.

"Can't we just skin him?" A Troll whined, "It will be dawn soon!"

"No, that takes longer, you idiot." The Fat one replied, "I don't want to get turned to stone."

Bilbo felt the metal bars growing hotter. He shuffled about uncomfortably, his own flesh sweating. Soon it became too hot to touch and the Dwarves started to shout in outrage at the sight of the Hobbit yelping and writhing in the cage as his skin burnt and smoked. Bilbo could barely hear Gandalf's voice, but through his blurred vision he coukd see the wizard standing on a great boulder with his staff raising high.

"Dawn will take you all!" 

There was a crack and the boulder split, one half falling away and the sunlight from the rising sun spilled onto them. The Trolls screamed and groaned as their flesh turned to stone, Bilbo felt the cage being lifted as one of the Trolls had tried to pull him off the spit. The chain snapped just as the groans stopped and the Trolls turned to stone. Bilbo sighed in relief, the metal cooling a little now it was away from the fire.

"Bilbo!" Gandalf pottered down from the boulder and rushed towards the Hobbit, "Let's get you out." The Wizard unlatched the door to the cage and Bilbo jumped out, his feet hitting the ground hard. He squeaked and Gandalf held his arm. 

"Sit down," Gandalf commanded and the Hobbit fell back onto his bum, his eyes shut tight as his hands held his ankles, "Bilbo, your feet..." Bilbo opened one eye and gasped out loud. The deep, dark red burns were fading and with that the pain faded as well.

"Stay there, I will free the others."

Bilbo sat there in silence, watching the burns fade while Gandalf released the Dwarves from the sacks. He heard feet stomping towards him but he couldn't look away from his feet. A hand rested on his shoulder gingerly and he found himself looking up at Thorin Oakenshield himself, the Dwarfs eyes lit up with concern.

"I'm fine." Bilbo croaked, his throat sore. Thorins brow furrowed and he looked down at the Hobbit's feet.

"Bilbo, are you o- what the...?" Kìli blinked rapidly, not believing what he was seeing, "What in Mahal...?"

"There is a lot more to our Burglar than we originally anticipated." Gandalf stated with a small smile.

"You took a huge beating back there!" Ori said in awe, "It's a wonder you're still breathing."

"I could have sworn I heard your ribs break when that Troll threw you!" Kìli patted Bilbo's shoulder before embracing him gently, "Nearly gave me a heart attack, I thought it would have killed you."

Bilbo blushed as the young Dwarf let go of him, "Ah, well, I feel worse for wear I assure you." He tried standing and his hand reached around to his back, rubbing it, "My back has taken the brunt of it all."

"Can you walk, Master Burglar?" Thorin questioned and the Hobbit nodded. Gandalf sighed, looking about the place with scrutinising eyes as the Dwarves talked.

"Trolls cannot move in daylight," He said aloud, "A cave must be near by, since these trolls must have travelled from the Ettenmoors." At the very mention of a Troll cave the Dwarves dispersed and started looking. Bilbo stood where he was aimlessly and Gandalf grumbled, eyeing the Hobbit carefully.

"Those back pains..." He began, "How long have you had them?"

"A... couple of days." Bilbo replied, "It worsened as I reached the Troll camp."

"I can imagine it did." Gandalf pursed his lips and Bilbo frowned, "I have a feeling these back pains mean a lot more than we think they do. Turn around." The Hobbit rose an eyebrow but did as he was told, but didn't expect to feel the back of his shirt be lifted up by the wizard.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Bilbo felt his shirt be dropped again and spun around to fix Gandalf with an angry, yet flustered stare. He lost it as soon as he noticed the worried look on Gandalf's face.

"It's as I had anticipated." The Wizard mumbled, "Do not worry too much, Bilbo, I know someone who can help." 

"Help what?" Bilbo asked in confusion, "Gandalf, what's wrong with my back?"

"GANDALF!" Nori's voice broke the comversation, "We found the cave!"

"Ah!" Gandalf smiled, "Come Bilbo, let's join the others."

Gandalf walked away and Bilbo was left with a cold feeling swirling in his stomach and his hand touched the bottom of his spine tentatively.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, very rushed. I hope its not to horrible though ;-;


End file.
